The heavy load of a narcissist in the family

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Living with a narcissist or two in the family is like living buried under concrete. There is no breathing space, no way of growing. It’s a stunted life, and should – in the general nature of things – be considered chronic abuse – a life lived with a narcissistic mother (or father, or caregiver) but it’s not.

Why is that? Because narcissists are so good at being the GREAT PRETENDER. They are so good at reflecting an image to the world that they are ‘faultless’.

This weight of concrete on top of me is still with me. I’ve lived with it for decades, despite trying everything to burrow my way out.

I’ve tried a) having my own secret life as a writer, b) moving away, c) going no contact d) trying to ignore the Narcissist and not let her get to me, e) well you get the picture…….

But that weight of concrete is with me every day, every waking moment. I wake up and feel buried by her (my mother’s) presence. The ‘buried’ feeling is under my skin, my every waking moment, and even in my dreams.

If I don’t contact her, my narcissistic sister goes into a rage. If I do contact my mother, I tiptoe around her every mood which changes from phone call to phone call. If I visit her after abandoning my ‘no contact’ attempts, I spend my time with her utterly, utterly buried under the weight of her ‘concrete’ personality and the whole world (my siblings) who pander to her every whim, and I feel dead inside.

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Published by mirandahurt

My name is Miranda Ellis. I work as an author and I am studying European law. I live in Bristol, UK. I am married to an amazing man and have three beautiful adult sons. I live a happy life, one that I have carefully crafted to suit the type of person I am, but in the background of this, and throughout my life my relationship with my mother has been one of mutual dislike, antagonism and bitter sadness.
My mother is a narcissist. She is NOT a mild narcissist, if there ever was such a thing, she has an extreme Narcissistic Personality Disorder. My father was lovely, but my many siblings and half-siblings have developed - genetically - or through being exposed to the mother - strong narcissistic traits. I have not. I am the scapegoat, the 'black' sheep, the hated one. I live my life based on love, support and devotion to the people I care about. My mother has lived her life shallowly and cruelly. It's sad that she will die never having known the beauty of love - because I believe she has never really felt it - but that's her problem, not mine. Finally at the ripe old age of 48-and-a-half, I have decided to write down my thoughts on my mother, no holds barred, and to let off steam.
She continues to hurt me to this day and I don't know why I let her. I know my issues have everything to do with the way she has treated me through my life. I need to learn to let go. I have tried, and then I succeeded, then failed, then double failed to let her go.
Make no mistake narcissists are very dangerous people and the best thing to do when you meet one, is run as fast as you can. Never share anything with them. I hope you get some comfort from my diary, if you too are going through the same thing. Blessings to you, Miranda x
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